Open Chronicles Annuakat: Prince In Chains

[Mirielle Merlon]

ANNUAKAT - CAPITAL OF THE EMPIRE OF AMOL-KALIT

A riverboat pulled up to the teeming shore of the Baal-Duru. The boat held, among other things:

• Lady Mirielle Merlon, advisor on the Imperial Divan, sister-in-law to Amir Farid of Lazular;
• Two dozen Lazulari guardsmen and assorted sellswords;
• Ptah, a magical being akin to a scarab, interested in meeting the Emperor;
• And Argath of Molthal, the Emperor's half-brother - technically, but not substantively, in chains.

Mirielle had sent word ahead to Gerra and key members of his Divan, including Aivrid (the acting minister of war) and Archlector Snaaib (high priest and wizard). This meeting of brothers could go any which way.

 

[Gerra]

Atop the ziggurat at the heart of the city, Gerra and the thousand step ascent awaited them. What passed for the throne room was an open air pavilion wherein the emperor sat, attended by over a dozen Immortals. He wore dark robes and a simple circlet of gold atop his fiery hair. Intricate black tattoos in a forgotten script webbed across his neck and shoulders, hinting that they spread further beneath the robes.

 

[Argath]

The trip had been remarkably uneventful. Mirielle Merlon had kept her word, and Lazular's guards kept any other Imperial dignitaries or mercenaries at bay. They'd even managed to carefully avoid the patterns of the the Antlions and sand worms that has caused so many deaths on the dunes. Now they had arrived at Annuakat, the Empire's capital.

Argath and company ascended the thousand step ziggurat, attracting the attention of several Kaliti as they walked. They would arrive at the Gerra's throne, an open air pavilion filled with what Argath assumed were the Empire's elite guard and advisers.

"You have done well for yourself brother." Argath complimented as he observed the scene. Argath had little stomach of Gerra's claim of divinity, but the trek from Lazular had taken time. Gerra ruled over much of the sands, and his guardsmen seemed well trained. Not as savage as the Blight Orcs Argath was used to commanding, but well trained nonetheless.

"As a token of my good faith, I have brought a trio of gifts. The first, a rug crafted by the finest weavers in Bhathairk" He pulled out from behind him a wrapped rug that in honesty was quite ugly. Argath knew little of the beauty of such things, but understood Gerra enjoyed them and made an honest effort. He gave the rug to one of the Lazular guardsman, who would take it to Gerra for inspection. Business between Molthal's sons was always a tricky affair, and he would not close the gap of their space unless invited.

"The second, a warhammer shaped for your build by the most talented dwarves in Alliria." Inlaid with gems and ornamented with precious metals, the weapon was a functional and effective work of art. The heft of the weapon was significant, and could easily crush any armored foes in the hands of giantkin. He handed it to a trio of guards who then took it to the Emperor.

"Lastly, I bring you the head of the spineless fool Lokat, our mutual enemy." He handed a small chest to another guard, containing the head of one of his and Gerra's older brothers. He seemed to remember Lokat being one of the instigators of Gerra's height-based torment, but was fuzzy on the details. Perhaps he was one of Gerra's most prolific abusers, or perhaps Argath was mistaken and he was simply another of their brothers. In any case, he doubted Gerra would be unhappy at Argath culling the herd.

 

[Ptah]

The large scarab had said little on the trip, and had kept a close eye on everything that had passed by or happened on the way there. The pairs of beetles on it's shell never moved from their place, flicking their wings on occasion as Ptah moved around carefully. The ascent of the steps was a touch troubling for the bug, but after resigning itself to crawling their way up, had gone much quicker. Argath took the lead of speaking, the large scarab casting it's emerald gaze from beside Mirielle Merlon at the assembled guard.

It would not move until the woman or the emperor spoke a command to them. It would however keep an eye on all the proceedings.

 

[Traecon Maxwell]

The sellsword regarded this emperor with a gaze that tread between familiar and confused. The memories he gleaned from the sight was jarring, yet recognizable. But at the same time, it was a mix of images and voices he could not accurately home in on. Many were the thoughts which roamed in his head, yet he could not get a clear grasp on which he would express first. Perhaps he would start with the matter of... the elfing. He thought some more, trying to glean some memory of which was... ah.

He would simply do with a greeting, after the two... siblings, as they were, finished their business. No sense in simply butting in on what seemed to be a familial greeting between brothers. Or not.

He settled for eyeing the court of the Emperor, his silvery pupils gleaming behind the shadow of his hood. Perhaps they would strike Gerra with familiarity, or perhaps not. His left gauntlet rested on a nearby block of marble, and the man took care not to draw too much attention.

Absentmindedly, he reaffirmed the goal of learning to swim - He had nearly drowned after having a croc snap down on his left, dragging him beneath during the boat ride and almost wrenching off the wood he had gripped in his surprise. The lady Mirielle Merlon charged him for the repairs of course - yet another reason he would go find work in the cities.

 

[Gerra]

The emperor's ebony features drew into hard, austere lines, like chipped obsidian. His eyes stayed fixed on Argath, deigning only to look at the treasures offered when they all lay piled at his feet. With a foot, he kicked open the lid of the chest and reached down, plucking from it an enormous head that smelled rankly of cedar-oil. He stared into the lifeless sockets of Lokat for a silent moment that seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

Then he let the decapitated head fall from his fingers. It bounced upon the ground and rolled, all eyes watching, as it tumbled all the way to the lip of the thousand steps and then fell down them, wet thumps marking its descent and becoming more and more distant, until silence reigned once more.

A gaze like a furnace stoked by wrath turned upon Argath.

"A rug fashioned by orcs Molthal presses into service. A hammer forged by dwarves I was sent to eradicate. A head... taken to pave your ascent."

Muscles writhed along Gerra's jaw as he visibly struggled to keep his rage in check.

"Tell me why I should not have you hurled from this pinnacle to follow Lokat down."

 

[Argath]

Argath's attempts at diplomacy had fallen flat, Gerra was unimpressed with his gifts. He had known this was possible, even likely, but he had hoped for a smoother start.

"Very well brother, I will skip the decorum." Argath replied. "I am here to ask your assistance in killing our father." He let the weight of his words linger as he eyed the platform around him. He suspected Gerra would be sympathetic to his cause, but that didn't mean he wouldn't order his death. Argath needed to understand his exits, just in case.

 

[Jakub Bram]

Jackub looked around, eyeing around the pavilion. Already things weren’t going well. He was wearing his usual armor, just in case.

He leaned his halberd against his shoulder. If the Half Giant ordered his apparent brother executed, he could hope he wouldn’t be lumped in with him.

He took a deep breath, clearing his mind. No sense in worrying too much about it. He carefully watched the conversation play out.

 

[Gerra]

Gerra snorted, lips curling derisively.

“Tired of waiting for him to drink himself to death?

He crossed his arms.

“You all want him dead so that you can tear each other to pieces over what he leaves behind. Why should I trouble myself and my people with the problems of petty princes at the other end of the world?”

 

[Argath]

Gerra's comments were dismissive of Argath's intentions, but lacked the threats that slithered off his tongue before. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife, but Argath saw Gerra's statements as distinct progress.

"Playing games with our brothers is not my goal, but rather a necessity to deal with. I desire the same things as you. A prosperous and growing nation. Father may have been an architect once, but we are no longer a modern nation." It was difficult for Argath to admit such things. Were it only Gerra he would have no qualm, but they were in the presence of so many outsiders.

"As for your benefit, I had assumed you would have a personal stake against our father." Argath prodded, but neglected to mention his banishment. "But if personal vengeance lacks value, there are other incentives. Molthal may sit halfway across the world, but the new Portal Stones make for an easy trip. I made the journey here in less than two weeks. An armed force could be at your borders in less than a month." He spoke of battle, but his tone lacked hostility. He was not here to threaten Gerra, but his brother knew what their father would do if he knew of the Empire in the sands.

"I have been impressed with your people Gerra, from guardsman to noble." He'd gesture at Mirielle Merlon. "But even victory does not come without cost."

 

[Gerra]

“It does not,” his eyes followed Argath’s gesture and found Mirielle, then moved slowly back to his brother, fixing on the chain around his throat.

Gerra’s mouth twitched.

“They are... deserving of your praise. But if you think I would throw away their lives to topple Menalus, then you’re more foolish than I’d thought. He is nothing to me now. Cinders and ash care more for him than I. If he stirs from his wine sodden stupor long enough to send his legions after me, then let them come. It will not be the first army Kaliti sands have swallowed.”

Gerra leaned forward.

“But we both know he won’t.“

The emperor steepled his fingers.

“What I fear more than the Ash King’s complacency is the ambitious son who will take his place, greedy for conquests beyond the Blight.“

 

[Argath]

"Your fears are understandable." His gaze stayed fixed on Gerra. "But unfounded. I have no desire to meddle in your territory." He let out a deep breath.

"When I came through your lands the first place I visited was the city of Lazular. Amol Kalit is thought of a wasteland, but that city was filled with horses and grain. The Blightlands does not have anything so productive. Crops do not grow. Our armies walk on half filled stomachs rather ride fed horses and wargs. Molthal must rebuild itself if it is ever to be anything but a mercenary army."

"My first task after Father's death will be to rid the Blightlands of their curse. From there the Spine and the Ixchell wilds must be tamed. The people of Epressa will fear Molthal once again. I care not for Liadain."

 

[Gerra]

"Oh? And how will you rid the Blightlands of their curse? You will still need the legions, more if you wish to conquer the Spine and the Wilds. How will the Blight's curse be lifted when your pit mines grow deeper and wider; when the tribute to sustain your campaigns grows higher; when your legions move over the land like locusts taking everything from the farmers and villagers just to sustain their march; when your brothers murder their sons and abuse their daughters?"

Gerra peered over his fingers at Argath.

"The curse on the Blightlands will end when every last son of Molthal has been excised from its surface, like a cancer."

Disgust curled the emperor's visage.

"You bring gifts to appease me, but you still talk like them, resorting to the only weapon, the only tactic you know. Fear. Well, be gladdened, Argath. I do fear you. I fear what you might do in seven generations time, when your cancerous machine has conquered all of Epressa and sets its sights on Liadain. What will become of my people then? No, Argath. I enjoy this status quo Menalus has created. It gives me peace to know that you are so focused on ripping each other apart in a volcanic wasteland that you cannot set your sights further. The only thing I would enjoy more is Molthal's utter annihilation."

 

[Argath]

"The Blightlands will be cured by any means necessary. If that requires shutting down the mines and dulling the war machine then so be it. My people will learn to eat from the work of their hands, not merely the scraps stolen from caravans that travel the Spine."

Argath's brow lowered as right first clenched in anger, but did not escape his side.

"Have my orcs not the right to farmland? Have none of your cities bent the knee through fear of your strength? You are different from our brothers Gerra, but so am I. Menalus rules with an iron fist and cares only for Molthal's sword and pick axes. I aim to empower the plow. The bridle. The hammer. The scroll. Fear may be the tool I need today, but I work so it is not the tool I need tomorrow."

"I have told you I have no sights for Liadain, and I meant it. If you've no desire to see Menalus slain I will not goad you any longer."

 

[Medja]

By the Hundreds, there were two of them now. Arguing over family matters, no less. This was one diplomatic affair that Medja was glad Gerra had totally bypassed her to deal with. She only hoped that things didn't come to blows...there might not be much of Annuakat left afterwards if they did, and she wasn't confident that her earth magic would get her out entirely unscathed.

The courtier watched from a distance as the two carried on (no distance within city limits could be defined as "safe"), getting increasingly frustrated with each other. No doubt Gerra was antagonizing his larger kin, bullheaded as he was. Soemtimes the most confusing thing about the God-Emperor was that he did not simply destroy that which he hated or feared. If he wished he could likely crush Argath and be done with it, never again having to fear what he could become some decades from now. Instead he carried on with him in conversation.

What did Gerra hope to accomplish, she wondered? Was he trying to convince his brother, or himself? Even if Gerra could somehow miraculously convince Argath to kneel before him, she doubted the Emperor would accept his service. What was the point of this farce?

 

[Gerra]

"...Would that I could believe you," the emperor rumbled after a long moment.

"But I do not."

Molten eyes looked on Argath, less filled with burning hate now and more with the sad understanding that fires, as is their nature, will consume everything around them until nothing is left.

"I should have you imprisoned to prevent that future. Maybe I am foolish for not, but my people will not tolerate harm to a guest. And I will not violate their trust."

Gerra waved a hand.

"Go. Take your gifts and go. If I ever see you again, Argath... I will kill you."

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

This confrontation rode a razor's edge between witnessed and private, familial and political. Mirielle had zero doubt that silence was her best play here. She'd chewed on potential solutions to the quandary, but everything that came to mind would be rejected by one party or the other.

On top of that, she'd listened with two sets of ears: the Imperial loyalist, and the child of Ashdell, a small kingdom in the Spine. She doubted Argath had approached only Gerra - he'd have looked to other potential allies as well. Which meant that the future of northern Epressa was very much in doubt. Whether today's outcome would positively or negatively affect that region's stability was anyone's guess.

"Your Majesty," she said, now that Gerra had indicated a wish that the matter should be closed, "another visitor - but hopefully a more welcome one. May I present Ptah, King of the Scarabs, a mage of unique abilities and interests. He seeks allyship and, so far, has asked nothing in return. He's been a good travelling companion."

She'd placed a genital-related curse on Argath to ward him away from harming her men unprovoked. She hadn't seen the need to do anything similar to Ptah.

 

[Ptah]

Ptah flicked his wings nervously at the fervent discussion between the largest of the beings in present company. Where there more of them beyond the dunes that he called home? He had seen several of them in a short time at the human outpost, and seemed aghast at the idea that there were yet more of them. His coming here could not have been better timed.

When presented, or at least mentioned, the child sized scarab stepped forward, head tiling to one side to focus an eye on Gerra while bowing. The projected voice had become smoother in the travel here, taking a more human tone. "Majesty. I have slighted you, not intended, but no less slighted. Myself, and kin have taken from stores to feed ourselves."

His digits rubbed together nervously. "I present myself into service to remedy this slight, and to speak of citizenship in the future. If it pleases you."

 

[Argath]

Argath let out a sigh.

"I had hoped of all of our brothers, your attitude would be different." Argath replied. He would then take off his necklace and return it to Mirielle Merlon and leave the ziggurat, careful to mind his surroundings. Even if Gerra did not wish to offend his people, that didn't withhold him from sending assassins to find him in the dunes. Argath would not bother to collect his gifts. They were after all, for Gerra.

Argath had far preferred Gerra's assistance in killing their father, but there were other machinations in play. Menalus's death was far too important to allow a single hurdle to stop progress.

 

[Gerra]

The emperor raised an eyebrow at Mirielle, then looked to the iridescent winged speaker. In truth, he’d not encountered this Ptah’s kind before, or any like it.

“That is not necessary,” he said with a wave of his hand, “Be welcome here, I will have your people fed-“

He paused, wondering if he had just promised to feed a swarm of millions.

“If you have coin, pay what you think you owe those whose grain you stole. But let us not make this a capital offense. You are a mage?”

 

[Ptah]

The bug could not smile at the words of feeding his people. However, Gerra could feel the scrutiny of the buggy gaze from the beetle at the words. "They do not simply eat grain, the lot also feed from those lain bare in the open postmortem." It's voice came through clear, though sounded distinctly disjointed from the body.

"A mage, of sorts. I am able to bend the will of scarabs, and simple minded insects. Simple magic is not beyond my ability. As for coin-" Ptah rubbed it's claws together. "I will give what I have. The majority of that which was stolen was beginning to spoil. A word of warning to your villages to check their top layer of stored grain. I believe a ill thing is spreading"

 

[Gerra]

Gerra steepled his fingers and leaned forward, elbows on knees.

“You seem to know much of agriculture. How would you feel about becoming a member of my court?”

 

[Ptah]

The wings of the scarab flickered at the leaning forward. It did not shy away from the great one, instead tilting its head slightly in lieu of blinking. "I know of the land, yes. The health of it benefits all. Be it in life or death."

The offer of a position in court intrigued it further, claws flexing and rubbing together once more. "To monitor the land and what grows from it? I would not shy from the chance."

 

[Gerra]

"Excellent, Ptah of the Scarabs. I hope Naspar will be pleased with this appointment. Please speak with Prince Mago Matahari, he will give you some agricultural projects to begin on. I look forward to seeing what you can produce."